


Second to Last

by sly (Prentice)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Challenge Response, Don't Like Don't Read, Exhibitionism, F/M, Glory Hole, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Requests accepted, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, ongoing fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-06-29 19:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prentice/pseuds/sly
Summary: As far as secrets go, the second to last stall in the dingy and dimly lit gent’s room at the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade could hardly, by anyone’s estimation, be called one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [this prompt](https://hpkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/870.html?thread=16742#cmt16742) on the hpkinkmeme, which sadly seems to be dead. 
> 
> Please note that this is an **ongoing** fic that will never really be "finished" as each chapter is going to be about a different character either visiting a glory hole or "working" at it. Each chapter will be clearly labeled with which character(s) it'll be about just in case there's one you don't want to read. Feel free to request. 
> 
> Also, as always, check the tags because I'm not your mother, bff, or therapist and your reading habits are _your_ responsibility so be informed and empowered and have fun! :)

As far as secrets go, the second to last stall in the dingy and dimly lit gent’s room at the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade could hardly, by anyone’s estimation, be called one. Not in the traditional sense, in any case. After all, most of the fifth and sixth-year wizards at Hogwarts would reluctantly admit – if pressed – that they had learned about it well before their seventh year and had likewise shared it before then too.

Usually with their dormmates, who had either already heard it from one of their other friends or who had never heard it at all before and therefore needed to be told at least another half dozen times to truly believe it. Which wasn’t to say it was shared with everyone, of course. Fourth years and below were strictly forbidden from being told, lest they end up running their gob in front of the wrong sort of company and end up spoiling it for everyone.

Witches, too, were similarly excluded, if only because, as one wizard had rather emphatically pointed out years ago – well before said secret had become so widely shared amongst the male population of Hogwarts – that ‘ _it wouldn’t do them any good anyway, would it?_ ’ and was subsequently used as the continued rationale for not sharing with any of their female year mates. 

Thus, the secret had, by and large, stayed a secret for at least as long as it took for the next generation of fifth-and-sixth year wizards to learn about it. Or, in some cases, try it, as most upon learning of the secret found reason to visit the Hog’s Head at least once during their remaining school years and even beyond them, as none of them had ever really forgotten about it. And why should they, they’d often muse years later, it was as much a rite-of-passage as was riding their first broomstick or passing their seventh-year NEWTs.  

Admittedly, it wasn’t the kind of rite-of-passage that they would necessarily share with just anyone. Their sons, perhaps. A few friends or coworkers, maybe. Possibly even their spouse too, depending on just what kind of witch or wizard they had shackled themselves to in the end but otherwise…

It wasn’t likely.

And that was perfectly fine by them.

This was especially true for the ones who still found a reason to frequent the establishment every now and again; the sawdust and sour-goat smell of the place always managing to somehow make them feel at once both delightfully virile and oddly nostalgic.

Sometimes it was admittedly more one than the other, as many of them couldn’t help but occasionally stop and reflect on their visit, but that was usually only if there was a queue.

Which had on occasion been known to happen. Mostly during the school year, when the fifth, sixth, and seventh years students were prowling around Hogsmeade, a steady stream of uniform-robed young wizards nervously hurrying in and out of Hog’s Head’s battered and rickety front door. Not that they were the only ones.

In fact, if anyone had bothered to pay attention – which they rarely did in view of the dodgy clientele that was frequently known to haunt the place – they would’ve noticed that there was a nearly constant flow of wizards of all ages and description going in-and-out the place almost year-round.

Whether this lack of attention was by design or by a craftily applied spell, no one really knew or in fact cared to find out since many of said wizards had very little desire for anyone to know or notice them. Be it by their wives, husbands, lovers, children, or, in some cases, political opponents. All or none of whom might’ve already known, depending on exactly where they went to school or who they’d shared confidences with over the years.

Regardless, most wizards had learned quickly that it was better to simply do their business and get on with it than risk the ire of the owner, Aberforth, or, worse, get caught in a queue. The former of which would invariably lead them to be kicked out the place and the latter of which would result in them having to wait, somewhat impatiently, until the second-to-last stall was unoccupied. Not an easy thing, considering there was no way of telling just how long _that_ would be on any given day.

Sometimes, it was only a matter of minutes. Other times, it was decidedly longer. Not that many wizards begrudged their fellow wizard the time exactly – no one wanted to be rushed while having a good time, after all – but there were schedules to be adhered to, lunch breaks to be stuck to, and curfews to be followed.

Which wasn’t to mention the fact that the Hog’s Head loos honest-to-Merlin _smelled_. Not just of goats and sawdust, which permeated the air in the main areas of the inn and pub like a thick and pulpy soup, but also of body odor, stale piss, and something that could only vaguely be described as a ‘loo-smell’ that no one could ever really describe but immediately knew upon mentioning. Even with a liberally applied volley of cleaning charms and spells, it was hardly the place one wanted to linger.

Not unless one was in the second to last stall anyhow, and if one was…

Well, no wizard could exactly say the smelled improved in there, but at least they didn’t notice it as much. Or at all, depending on whoever it was occupying the very last and therefore most important stall in the gents. That no one knew – or quite possibly had ever known – just who it was occupying the stall was hardly surprising, since it, unlike the other stall, truly was a secret.

One that – despite some offhand speculation and locker room talk – somehow managed to stay a secret in every sense of the word.

Which was, again, as far as any wizard who visited the place was concerned, perfectly fine by them. Not just because it would avoid any potential awkwardness on their part, but also because most of them just didn’t want to know. It was easier for them that way.

Easier and much more exciting.

After all, they could imagine just about anyone being on the other side of that dingy and worn piece of carved wood that served as the divider between the two stalls. Be it a lover, a friend, a colleague, or even someone else far less likely. A Hogwart’s professor, perhaps; one of the stricter ones that the students often complained about, whose no-nonsense attitude belied the truly amazing cock-sucking skills they perfected almost daily in the darkest corner of the Hog’s Head’s gents.

Or maybe it was one of the students; a cock-hungry excitable young witch or wizard who sucked them down like they were starving and who probably touched themselves until they were wet and raw and sloppy with how good it felt.

Maybe it wasn’t even someone remotely related to Hogwarts.

Like one of those pureblood toffs, the ones who walked around with their nose in the air, pretty little pureblood wife or husband on their arm, so sure they were superior to everyone else when really, they got on their knees and sucked everyone down, spit and come dribbling down their chin at every opportunity.

Or maybe it was a mudblood, some dirty little cock-slut who licked and sucked and played with their balls, tongue flicking at their cock-slit, thirsty for every drop of come from their betters.

Perhaps it was…

Merlin, perhaps it was some famous or well-known wizard. A quidditch player maybe – or a politician. Some craggy faced old Wizengamot member who enjoyed serving the wizarding population in more than just the court room. Or maybe it was a junior member, a fresh-faced young thing who was high on their new position in the world and hungry for the touch of a wizard but afraid to jeopardize their standing.

It might even be an Auror, some highly-trained hit-wizard who was known for upholding the law but got off on the idea of breaking it, especially in some dank and dirty little out-of-the-way pub where no one would know they were the ones choking themselves on wizards’ cocks and moaning at how good it felt.

Or maybe it was…


	2. Percy Weasley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any tense or grammar issues as I don't currently have a beta.

Tuesdays were always hard days at the Ministry.

At least, they were for Percy Weasley, who usually spent them neck-deep in paperwork, back and arse aching from spending so much time hunched over his desk desperately trying to make a dent in his overflowing and temperamental inbox. It wasn’t easy; being the most junior of the junior assistants to the Minister of Magic meant that most of the more tedious and time-consuming work invariably got rerouted to his desk. Which was…

Well, Percy didn’t like to complain, especially about his co-workers, but there was a shocking level of laziness in some of the more senior members of his team. It was to be expected he supposed; most of them were from well-connected pureblood families. Sons and daughters of witches and wizards who already sat on some sort of Ministry board or other, and who had likely never done a real day’s work in their lives without someone else doing all the hard work for them first. 

Which was why Percy couldn’t help but be annoyed by it.

Unlike the others, he’d worked hard to get his position. Putting in long hours and late nights. Giving up time with friends and family. Sacrificing weekends and holidays. Even going so far as to break it off with Penelope, who just hadn’t understood why he was willing to sacrifice so much for seemingly so little; her eyes red and raw with unshed tears the night they’d parted ways because she’d felt like he’d chosen his budding career at the Ministry over his relationship with her.

He wondered what she would think of him now.

After all, he might only be a junior assistant right now, but that would change eventually. It had to; he’d done and gone through too much for his hard work not to pay off in the end.  Especially after that whole awful debacle during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, when he’d been so sure he would be fired or – worse – regulated to some dark little corner of the Ministry’s basement offices, never to be noticed or promoted from obscurity ever again.

By some miracle, that hadn’t happened though, and here he was: diligently working his way through a stack of inter-departmental memos, back and arse aching as he worked his way towards a possible promotion that would see him go from junior assistant to the Minister to senior assistant in just a few short years.

It was just a matter of time and hard work.

He was sure of it.

Which was why he’d started to – well.

‘Indulge’ was probably the best word for it, even if it did seem somehow inappropriate and conjured up images of a slice of his mother’s prize-winning double chocolate cake or a large tumbler of his father’s not-so-secret stash of Firewhiskey. That both of those only seemed to highlight the awkwardness of the term didn’t really bear thinking about. Even so, it was accurate, for all that he disliked the connotations of the word, because really, what else could he call his weekly trips to Hogsmeade?

Or, more accurately, his standing Tuesday night – appointment? – in the very last stall in the gent’s room at the Hog’s Head Pub and Inn? Especially if it wasn’t an indulgence..?

He really didn’t know.

Stress relief, perhaps.

That might have been a better term for it, a better way of explaining it, but it wasn’t entirely accurate. At least not to his way of thinking anyway, because stress relief was for the wizards who went out to the pub after work. Or for the ones who visited a molly-house or brothel or even the second-to-last stall in the gents’ room in the Hog’s Head in Hogsmeade after a bad day at the Ministry. 

It wasn’t for whoever it was who got on their knees in the aforementioned stall and sucked down cock through a hole in the wall like it was the only thing they ever wanted to do for the rest of their life.

That was something different.

At least, it was for Percy, who had started to look forward to his Tuesday nights the way some witches and wizards looked forward to their days off. His trousers tight with eagerness the longer the day went on because he knew how good it would be for him. How utterly satisfying.

Why, he didn’t know. Couldn’t even begin to explain. There was just something about it.

It was the anticipation, maybe; the long wait during the week as he slogged through paperwork and hours of long dull meetings, and then the slow lead-up on the day, stomach fluttering hot and tight as he hunched carefully over his desk, erection already half-hard beneath his robes despite his aching back and arse.

Or maybe it was the – the _deviousness_ of it all; the absolute secrecy of it.

At least, it was for him, since he had to be incredibly careful not to be noticed or seen, especially at a place like the Hog’s Head, which already had a certain kind of reputation because of the witches and wizards who frequented the place, never mind what may or may not have been going on in the gent’s room.

If he was caught there, especially by someone of any significance, it would be…

_Merlin_ , it would be disastrous, for him and his career, especially if he was caught in the last stall in the gents and not just the second-to-last stall which plenty of wizards visited regularly. He couldn’t afford that. Not here and not now, with his career finally going someplace.

And so he had to be careful and clever whenever he Apparated in.

Not directly into the stall which would have made things considerably easier, but instead to a spot just beyond the Inn where he could make his way cautiously to the carefully concealed door that served as the secret entrance to the stall and where, if unoccupied, he could slip inside under a heavy disillusionment charm.

From there, it was easy, and only a matter of waiting, since the owner of the pub had long since set up some sort of charm that allowed him to know when someone was inside and could, therefore, set up whatever signal it was he used to let certain patrons know that the last stall was currently in service.

What that was exactly, Percy didn’t know and truthfully didn’t care, just so long as it allowed him to keep coming here without anyone being the wiser and with as much time as he wanted to enjoy himself.

Which he always did.

His hands cupping himself lightly through his robes, fingers teasing and light over his already half-hard cock as he waited for whatever wizard would come into the other stall and slide their cock through the worn circular opening between the stalls in order to have their dick sucked by him.

He never had to wait long; a temptingly hard cock sliding through the opening within minutes of the door charming itself closed and occupied behind him. He always groaned helplessly at the sight, saliva already gathering in his mouth as he slid himself off the little-cushioned stool that served as a place to sit and quickly got down on his knees to nuzzle at whatever cock was presented to him. It didn’t really matter what it looked like, be it small or large, thick or slim, cut or uncut.

They were all the same to him at the end of the day and he loved teasing the first one that slid through, lips and fingers dragging over it as he drew out the anticipation for himself a little more. It never lasted for too long, his own impatience and hunger driving him to lick a wet sloppy trail over whoever’s length it was he was toying with. His hand confidently curling around the base so he could slap the cock against his lips and tongue, tongue-tip flicking over the slit as he shuddered pleasantly at whatever sound the wizard made.

From there, he usually worked quickly, mouth opening to suck and lick at the cockhead before hastily swallowing the rest down. His head bobbing up and down as he took a little more each time until he was nearly choking himself with how good it felt. Mouth and chin rapidly becoming sloppy with spit and pre-cum as he worked the cock like it was the last one he’d ever have; free hand clumsily unbuttoning his own trousers to relieve some of the pressure as he groaned and moaned his way towards his first mouthful of cum.

How long that took always varied, the wizard on the other side of the partition either shooting off quickly or making him work for it. He always preferred when they made him work for it, his jaw aching and his mouth puffy as he licked and sucked and swallowed; gag-reflex almost entirely gone from how often he came here. His own cock twitching and drooling messily into his pants as the first salty taste of cum splashed onto his tongue, the anonymous wizard’s cock jerking in his hand as he mouthed greedily up the length until he was sucking at the head, greedy for every drop the man gave.

After that, it was usually a pleasant blur; the first spent cock being replaced with a deliciously hard new one. His throat sore and his lips swollen as he moaned and whined helplessly with every new cock he sucked, every new load he swallowed. He was nearly crazy with it by the time he was done, half-formed fantasies drifting through his mind as he fisted himself frantically, cock drooling a messy puddle onto the floor as the newest wizard on the other side of the partition called him filthy names and fucked his mouth rough and dirty and just the way he wanted him to at the end of his evening.

His own orgasm punching out of him like a blow as he wailed helplessly, a new stranger’s cock jerking and jumping in his grasp as it splattered his face and robes with cum. His chest heaving and his breath ragged as he cleaned the wizard’s cock with sloppy sucks that earned him another slew of filthy names and perverse suggestions. The stinging throb in his jaw and throat all but forcing him to stop as he finally pushed himself from his sore knees and over to the small chipped wash basin in order to clean himself up before Apparating home; achy exhaustion heavy in his limbs as he slid between his sheets and fell into a deep satisfied sleep that would leave him bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the rest of the week.

That he would have to wait an entire week until he was able to do it again never really bothered him. He needed something to look forward to after all. Especially with how much paperwork he was forced to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to request which character you'd like to see next.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are currently under moderation due to an influx of spam/trolls.


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